Trivial Pursuit
by fairmaidofkent
Summary: James would never share his story, not even with Victoria. But he did have a past. Meant to correspond with 'Risk', but can be read separately.


"Cecelia, are thou in hiding? S'blood, Cecelia, your brother did tell me you were here in the topiary, you mustn't be far off-"

"Sir!" A beautiful blonde head appeared suddenly around a hedge. The shining hair was oddly disheveled, and as she strode demurely towards her summoner, she adjusted the shoulders of her gown.

"My dear,"

"I know I've asked you not call me that, sir," she interrupted sharply, glowering up at him with enormous blue eyes. Her lovely pink mouth was pinched, her creamy cheeks bright and rosy.

"And I know I've asked you to call me by my given name. We are betrothed, to be wed by the end of the month-"

"Aye, I _know_," she snapped churlishly. "Very well, _James._ Do you not think it inappropriate that we stand here, unchaperoned, so near to that date?"

"Not unless you had some sort of intention, dear," he smirked, and she turned her face away in a vain attempt to hide her distaste.

_Of all the handsome men Father might have chosen for me!_ she bemoaned silently. It was true that the young man before her was incredibly wealthy, left so after the untimely death of his sire and three older brothers. Cecelia gave a tiny sigh of longing- originally, she'd been meant to marry the Duke's eldest son, the strong and appealing Richard. She had scarcely known him at the time he'd died, but did remember his bold features: clever brown eyes, square jaw, rugged hair, broad shoulders- he'd kissed her once, and she'd been all too eager for her marriage bed. Every thing about him had promised good humor and vitality. But now...

She supposed it _could_ be worse- at least he was young, just twenty and two years, only five years older than herself. But he'd always been the runt- mousy brown hair instead of the chesnut of his brothers and father, thinner, complexion sallow- and now pockmarked by the disease that had wiped out the rest of his close male kin. His teeth were crooked, lips thin, and there was no depth to his small brown eyes.

"Go fetch my brother and bring him back as witness if you wish to speak," she commanded.

"The epitome of propriety, are you not? Virtuous- I appreciate that, Cecelia," he told her earnestly. She bit back a huff.

"Just go!" Once he'd vanished, Cecilia turned back to the greenery. "William?" she stage whispered. Her lover's grinning face poked around the corner.

"Come back to me, my sweet," he groaned, holding out his arm to her. She giggled, and sprang into his embrace.

"We've only got but a moment- come, we must be quick this time."

"Your wish, my command," he panted, pinning her back against the hedge and pushing her voluminous skirts up around her hips.

"Mmm, aye, my love" she sighed in approval as he slid into her. He rocked against her, eliciting wanton gasps from the beautiful blonde.

"Cecelia?"

Her eyes snapped open in horror. It was too fast- surely he couldn't have already found Henry and brought him back.

"William!" she hissed, shoving at his shoulders. He didn't seem the understand the urgency, and lifted his eyes to gaze up at her lustfully.

"Love,"

"You must stop! You must-"

"Cecelia?" James strode into view, Henry at his shoulder.

"Don't!" she cried, knowing it was too late.

"Cecelia!" It was her brother's enraged voiced that broke the silence- James could do no more than stare in horror. Henry charged forward, ripping the pair apart, flinging the stunned, half undressed man to the ground and backhanding his sister hard across her protesting mouth. "You fool!" he roared, ignoring her piteous whimpers as she brought two fingers to her bleeding lip. His head whirled and- not to his surprise- the young Duke had vanished. "D'you see what you have done by being a stupid slut? He'll not be made a cuckold by you."

"How could I marry him, Harry?" she demanded, sliding in the nickname in hopes of softening his temper. It was to no avail, but she pressed on anyway. "Just look at him! All skinny and horrible- I couldn't lie in _his _bed!"

"You selfish, short-sighted malkin! He is rich, Cecelia, and is of undisputed lineage! And now, now you have what?" For the first time, he turned to the still-shirtless young man who was attempting to slink off. He froze when Henry's eyes found him.

"You, boy!"

"Erm, aye?" He fidgeted while his lover's brother regarded him with an icy gaze.

"Who is your father? What's your family, then?" He narrowed his eyes suddenly. "Wait- I know you. You're a stable boy, aren't you?" Henry whiled back to his sister. "His family, the lot of them a bloody franklins! You gave a a duke for _that?_"

"I didn't give up any thing!" Cecelia wailed tearfully. "I'll go after him, he'll do anything I say!" she sobbed. "I tell him I'm sorry, I'll be good, he'll forgive me in a heartbeat! Brother, please-"

"Enough!"

* * *

James ran. He'd never been the fastest sprinter, nor had his endurance been anything to be impressed by, but he'd escaped the prying eyes and gossipmongers by the time he collapsed, gasping for air in the forest's outskirts.

His lovely, angelic Cecelia. She'd been his only by the most outrageous stroke of chance, such that he was certain it had to be fate.

He'd been taken with the girl upon their first encounter- the same day that he'd learnt that she was to marry his brother. It had hardly mattered to James that there wasn't a man at court not smitten with the beautiful, charming girl, nor that the law would eventually name her as his sister. Richard had been born first, and consequently granted every privledge- including the betrothal the the woman James was certain he loved. He hated his sibling for be handed more than he himself could ever struggle to acheive, but his bitterness did not end there. Edward, the second born, was renowned as the most skilled horseman in the kingdom, and so earned his own glory. Even Charles, closest in age to James, was well-liked for his affability and charm- he never had a shortage of female attention.

No body much cared that James was by far the cleverest of the brothers, nor that his ability to find game could put a hound to shame. After all, it was always another who made the kill- his brothers would follow their much-ridiculed sibling, and when a young buck or sleek fox was spotted by all, the stronger and faster would take the creature down.

James had seen it as the greatest moment of his life when the pox had killed Richard, the eldest, Edward, the gifted, Charles, the handsome, and even the father of them all, who'd never spared much time for the son he'd always assumed, or perhaps hoped, would catch cold and die off some blustery winter. He'd been almost unable to believe his good fortune when, almost immediately after that, it had become known that he would wed the much sought after belle of the court: Cecelia. Suffering through the pox himself seemed, in retrospect, a small price to pay.

_Cecelia_. No longer his, but that of some worthless stablehand. He would see her destroyed, using his title to forever sully her reputation, and that of her children's children. Perhaps see her banished from court, have her lover executed on some false charge of treason- yes, he must plant some seed of doubt into the king's mind over the lad. He could-

"Am I quite interrupting something, _monsieur?_" A trilling laugh broke his train of thougth. "I thought not." The voice was high and lilting, like singing even as she spoke even the most mundane of words. And the woman who skipped- no, danced- into view was certainly not human. She was a young creature, likely at ten and five years, but her enormous eyes held a sly wisdom that unnerved him.

_Red eyes._

He leapt up in ill-disguised terror, and she laughed again. "Fear me not, _monsieur_. I could not help but witness your little, ahm, _moment,_ with your... beloved."

Rapidly, James felt his fear melting into humiliated rage. "What _are_ you? Some wraith, a spirit of the forest, a demon with ears where they ought not be?"

"_I,_" she announced snidely, "am no such crudity. _I_," she waltzed closer, her flawless pert nose in the air, "am a _goddess._ You ought should be on your knees before me, brute."

"If such a noble goddess you are," he shot back rudely, though he wasn't totally disinclined to believe her, "then why do you deign to visit me in my misery?"

"I _am _a goddess," she repeated, scowling. Somehow, this did not detract from her stellar beauty. "And I'm very, _very_ bored."

"Clearly." He turned dismissively.

"I can give you what you want, you know," she called back voice tempting.

"With all due respect, as little or much as you may garner, I highly doubt that."

"Handsome, strong, _powerful _in more than just title. Women, _beautiful _women, would want you, so many that you'd have to turn them away. And you could run for hours without pausing to catch your breath, lift castles with one hand, feel life for the first time." As she spoke, she'd crept up behind him, and now placed a tiny white hand on his back. He jumped- it was icy.

"You offer lies. Witch!" he hissed.

"There _would_ be a price- but I think you'd be willing to pay it."

"Get away from me."

"No." She was upon him in an instant, knocking him flat and leaving him bruised.

"S'blood, demon!" he cried, attempting to fight her off. It should have been simple, but the minute hands about his wrists were like iron menacles.

"Stay still!" she cried. "I wish to try this, but the scent of your blood- oh, I can hear it pounding! Still, stay still, still!"

"Release me, creature! Relea-" In one swift motion, the beautiful monstor lunged for his throat, teeth slicing through the flesh of his neck. He choked out another cry, and she sprang away, moaning. "It will hurt, and I must go, but I'll be back- oh!" she shot off at an impossibly fast rate. It confounded him, but then, there was no room for curiosity.

There was just fire.

* * *

At last, it ended. But yet, it remained- drawn from his limbs and consolidated in his throat. Ripping, clawing, _need. _Water? No.

"You're awake! _Oui_, I knew such that it would all go well! You're mine now, you know."

James's eyes shot open, and he could _see._ Everything, every color and fiber. He could hear the very breath of the forest itself, and voices further off. And scent- the relief to his craving was near. But where?

"Knave, look at me. I am your creator, you must acknowledge me," the elegant whine drew his attention, and his gaze fell upon the witch that had attacked him. She was grinning.

Fury flooded him. "I don't know what you've done," he snarled, slightly startled by the deep, smooth sound of his own voice.

"I am a goddess," she repeated, still grinning. "And now you are what I am."

He meant only to stride forward in an intimidating manner, but found himself immediately before her. "Demon!" He was distracted quite suddenly by the sight of his hand- white, smooth and... _powerful_?

"You and feel it, can you?" she whispered.

"Witch," he spat.

James had never in his life harmed a woman or child- in fact, he'd never effectively harmed a man. He wasn't certain how he knew that he'd be able to do it, but one moment the beautiful inhuman smirked before him, and less than a second later, she was in pieces around him on the forest floor.

"Fascinating..." he murmured, gazing in wonder at his hands. He felt an odd sort of detachment- surely it should upset him that he had just demolished a sentient creature-

A creature that did not seem to be fully dead.

The small white hand, torn from its wrist, seemed to be twitching, pulling itself through the grass. Horrified, James sprang back. The leap carried him further than he'd imagined, and the forest was filled suddenly with the splintering, crashing sound of downed wood as the trees he collided with fell, split at the trunk.

"Fascinating indeed," he repeated softly. The fire in his throat was distracting, but he needed to think. How was it that he had ended up in this wood anyway?

_Cecelia. _The name came quickly, but the image of her face was slower- muddied and unreal for a reason he couldn't fathom. The hatred came swiftly after- the humiliation. He could not return there, not in the state he was in- but what state was that, precisely?

It didn't matter. Not now, now when his throat rasped and the agony of it stilled his thoughts.

Turning from court, from all that he knew, turning from his past life, James ran.

* * *

_Epilogue_

Cecelia lay in bed, but sleep would not come. The rough wool of her blanket offered little comfort, and straw from her pallet scratched what was once silky white skin. But she didn't care. Seven years ago she had cared, bemoaned her wedding to William, the handsome stable boy with no name, no money. All to no avail.

She was no longer the beauty she had once been. The wife of a working man had no time for pretty dresses and jewels and frills; three children had softened her youthful figure. She rarely thought anymore on the life she might have had, but tonight it was difficult. Tonight, she was alone. William had vanished sometime after supper -_likely with that Belmun girl,_ she thought vehemenently. She wasn't certain when he'd first become unfaithful, but it hurt none the less. Since her marriage, men she would have once considered beneath her wouldn't even look her way. _Tragic,_ her mind supplied mournfully. In fact, she was so lost in self pity, she didn't hear the door open, nor the foot steps across the floor, but she _did_ notice the unfamiliar figure suddenly at the foot of her bed.

"William?" she hissed roughly into the darkness.

"No." The voice was unfamiliar, but smooth and pleasant- almost amused. "Perhaps light a candle, Cecelia, and you can see me as clearly as I see you."

"I've no candles lying about! Get out of here, or I'll scream! You'll be killed!"

"No one could hear you, and no one would care. You're nothing anymore, not even beautiful."

"How dare you!" she snarled, leaping up and stumbling towards the fireplace. There were still some coals, and she quickly built up the flames until it offered her sight.

At first, she didn't recognize him. His skin was white and flawless, his hair thicker, lightened, and pulled casually away from his face. There was an easy confidance in his stance that bordered on arrogance, but after a moment, her heart froze.

"James? Why, you're looking... well."

"And you, Cecelia, are looking absolutely... delicious."


End file.
